Atlas (Re)shrugged

This is a short piece.. I guarantee that.
This is something that I noticed in 'Atlas Shrugged' by Ayn Rand.
The error is self evident. I have copied the concerned text from the book verbatim.

"While you were dragging to your sacrificial altars the men of justice, of independence, of reason, of wealth, of self-esteem-I beat you to it, I reached them first. I told them the nature of the game you were playing and the nature of that moral code of yours, which they had been too innocently generous to grasp. I showed them the way to live by another morality-mine. It is mine that they chose to follow."

I think that the non readers of Atlas Shrugged need a small summary of the situation.
"The main conflicts of the book surround the decision of the "individuals of the mind" to go on strike, refusing to contribute their inventions, art, business leadership, scientific research, or new ideas of any kind to the rest of the world. Society, they believe, hampers them by interfering with their work and underpays them by confiscating the profits and dignity they have rightfully earned. The peaceful cohesiveness of the world disintegrates, lacking those individuals whose productive work comes from mental effort. The strikers believe that they are crucial to a society that exploits them, denying them freedom or failing to acknowledge their right to self-interest, and the gradual collapse of civilization is triggered by their strike." Source: Wikipedia (Go here for the entire article - Wikipedia Atlas Shrugged)

The lines in italics undermines the book and the entire John Galt speech. After all, it does not matter if they choose to live by the laws of the people who wish to use the product of individual brilliance for societal means or the laws of Galt, in the end they are not living their own lives. They are leading lives that is required of them by others. In this regard, the book does not talk completely of objectivism, but of disguised dictatorship for she (Rand) has ended up with a sermon generally associated with priests. It appears that she has crowned herself the high priestess of how to live a life.

In the end, I appreciate what Rand has taught me, 'My life is mine and no one has any right of it other than myself.'

I do not need to be told this no matter by whom- neither Rand, neither Galt and neither any of her other creations, this is something I know. In the event that I do not realize that my life is mine, I guess that I do not have the right to be informed of something that is so fundamentally true.

Neither Galt's nor Roark's

Neither Toohey's nor James'

My life is mine, Mine alone.

Life and Death

Everytime I look in your eyes,
I live a thousand lifetimes,
Everytime you close your eyes
I die a thousand deaths.
Life and death,
Separated by the blink of your eyes.
In you I see me,
In me you see you.
Everytime you see in my eyes,
I die a thousand deaths.
Everytime I close my eyes,
I live a thousand lifetimes.
Death and Life
Separated by the blinking of mine

Never love what you do for a living!!!!

I am sure that this is something that everyone aspires to achieve. Every person entering the work scene has this as his/her dream and old people regret not having had this during their professional life. The dream of doing what one loves, not loving what one does (they read almost the same; however, carry a subtle difference).
This too was my dream, to get into something that I love. In fact, every profession I wanted to pursue. Being one of fickle mind, I have had my share of dream professions ranging from the mundane army general to all-important doctor. If some had asked me when I was in school what I was to become, in most cases I would have said a doctor. Then I did a turn around and joined engineering. During my engineering, I wanted to get into some Masters and become a researcher. Never once did I think that I would take the management side of business. I have always been a techie. However, here I am, a management graduate in finance, working for one of the top-notch financial institutions. This is my learning.
Never do something that you love as a profession. Always pick a profession that you like and not love. Pursue it so that you are doing something that you like. Keep the thing that you love to pursue along with the profession. I do agree that this sounds ridiculous. If one is given an opportunity to pursue some profession that they love, they should not do so. The answer is that profession over a period becomes a mean to an end. One cannot and should not restrict one’s life to work. Work is something that gives you the means to enjoy life. If you take the thing that you love the most and make a job out of it, the sheer monotony of having to do it over and over again will kill the love for it. I will give a rather vulgar example, but one that will drive the point home.
Human beings are built to enjoy sex. However, think of a prostitute. She does it for a living; so much so that there will come a point where she does not even what to think about it outside of her ‘work’. Take a sportsperson. As a child imagine that he loved running and feeling the wind in his face. As he grew older, he pursued running as a career. However, he did not take into account the amount of training he will have to do, the amount of effort he has to put in. finally, when he is running the actual race, he is not enjoying the wind in his face anymore. He is looking to see what his position is or what would his sponsor think of his current place. He is not driven by the love for what he is doing, but by the desire to excel in what he is doing. He does not love running anymore.
That is why I started by saying that one should not do what one loves for a living. There are many of so-called writers around, who dabble in blogs. Imagine if some publisher came to us and told us to write books, one after another. There would be a period, we would have to cater to a larger audience, and the entire joy of writing will be devoid in our works.

Therefore, today I vow,
If given a choice,
Never to pursue
What I love as a profession.
I will pursue, what I like,
Leaving the love to remain.

Dignity of Labor

This is something that I have thought of for quite some time now. Let me begin with something that t according to many people shows me as a snob. I mostly watch English movies, vow away from Hindi ones and watch the Tamil ones that are prescribed by Balu, who shares my taste in movies, at least the good ones. It is usually a norm that he will watch a Tamil movie first and then if he finds it good and wants to go another time, he will go along with me.
In all the English movies that I have seen, people follow all kinds of professions, they are waiters, janitors, truck drivers, firemen, cops, business magnets, run of the mill farmers; you name a profession and they are in it. However, they are not given preferential treatment as I see happening in our country. What I fail to understand is why is that to us a person who cleans a drain is socially below the one that calls him to do so? Should it not be the other way around; he is able to do something you are not, therefore he is better than you are?
I do agree that there is a certain comparison going on, something that I vowed never to do however, when it is staring you in the face, there is not much that you can do about it. It pisses me off to see someone call a waiter the way that you call a dog, pouting your lips and making noises that sound like you are sucking hard on something. I use this example because it is the most obvious. Quite some people do not even know the names of the servant maid who come to clean their houses and cook for them. After all, they say, "She does a job, which I pay her to do and why should I know her past, her present and her future?" What do they have to benefit?
Let me tell you something that I have tried and has paid off. The next time you take a rickshaw, try indulging the driver in harmless banter. You do not notice the traffic you are stuck in and at the end of the ride; you have made your self an acquaintance. The other day, I got into a rickshaw and the driver did not even ask me where I was headed. He drove as if he knew where I was to go. Having been in a bad mood and lost in thought, I did not even notice until he pulled up in front of my office, apparently, I had talked to him a few days before and he remembered me.
Try talking to your maid the next time, ask her about her kids, about her life and I am sure that you will notice the improvement in the quality of work and the involvement that she has.
Why do a few words said in what can be described as kindness make such a difference? The reason is simple; you are treating them like a human being. You are giving them the most important thing that a person needs- dignity - dignity of labor. You are telling them that no matter what work you do, you are doing it to feed yourself and your children, the same way that I work. Just because you earn lesser than I do, that does not give me the right to look down on you (I beg you, please refrain from asking if there is anything that gives me the right to look down on you, the only thing that does if I am taller than you are and I am literally looking down on you).
In the end, I wish that no one would have to undergo what millions undergo in this country, of being denied the dignity of labor. The government talks about equality, unless there is dignity of labor, there cannot be any equality, for equality comes from within and not without.
You no better than I am,
For I am no better than you are.

First rains

Stuck in this small room,
On the seventh floor,
I look out at the world,
So hot, so humid,
Months of summer
Behind her, as she lies in wait
For the first rains.

The clouds linger over,
Promising relief,
Delivering nothing,
Pass on by, a game they play.
She is parched,
Her children faded,
Yearning for a drink
The drink of life.

Finally the day arrives
When the first raindrops fall
Bringing with them
Cool relief from the heat,
Tenderness for the parched throat.
She hugs the raindrops
As they fall into her,

The earth below
And the drops from above
Dance their cosmic dance,
Emitting smells
Heavenly, yet earthbound.

Her children, they bloom,
With all their might,
For father has come,
To give them life.
It is the first rains
It is the start of new life.

Alone to the theater

If one wants to really watch a movie, I recommend a visit to a theatre on a weekend, especially the early morning show. This has two advantages; the cost of the ticket is comparatively lesser (Rs. 70 as compared to Rs. 170 in the evening) and the feeling that the movie is being screened exclusively for you. Even if the cost is not a factor, one must experience the second one. It is an amazing experience to sit in a theater, with a sprinkling of patrons all seated in the top row. I would recommend getting a seat in the middle rows. This way, one is again away from the crowd (which tends to concentrate at the top rows) and you get a better feel of the movie. The sides of the screen do not come into the point of view and the sound is better. Most of the theaters have DTS Surround sound and this is the best way of experiencing the sound systems. One of my friends tells me that these days the theaters have seats akin to barcaloungers. He tells me that it is possible to get a normal ticket and proceed to sit in these extremely comfortable seats. Please do remember that when you are in the theater on a weekend morning, the probability of finding “love birds” cooing away in the dark nooks is high. Be ready to ignore them. Do not embarrass yourself and them by gawking at them. There is bound to be the few people who come for time-pass; they will pass comments, make inappropriate jokes at the inappropriate times, and have a ball. You have two options, you can either pick fight, and chances are that you are grossly outnumbered. Else, you can shut up and try to watch the movie. There is no typical response for this. The best solution for an unruly crowd is to request once. If they do not oblige, then if the theater is empty, move. These days, the kinds of movies being produced has improved significantly in quality. I still abhor the running around the trees romance, with dishoom dishooms. A movie was ideally meant to provide an escape from reality. One could forget the tribulations of daily life when he/she was at a movie. Is there any other reason that will validate the crowds at a Rajinikant or a Shah Rukh Khan starrer? People do not want to have to think during a movie. They are happiest when everything is spoon-fed, the story is plain and simple, and the hero is united with the heroine. However, I believe that a movie like a book must be thought provoking. it must make you think and question. It must try to say something and allude to even more things. A movie is not an escape from reality, it is just another person’s view of reality. The movies I enjoy are the ones that make me think, even if they are animated versions. Lately I have found that the animated versions have more to think about than the others. Whatever else I have blabbered, I do recommend strongly going to a movie alone. It is like reading a book, a highly personal experience. Once you go alone, you would keep doing that.

Indifference

This post shall begin, like most of my other posts, with thanks to the person who brought this conversation to the fore, Suchitra. If it were not for your questions, I would not be even half the thinker that I think I am.

The question under consideration is what is indifference? We are not going to talk about whether it is beneficial or not. All I am interested is in what it is.

Indifference as defined would mean the ability to come face to face with something and not be affected by it. It seems to mean that the something that one is indifferent to does not hold any importance in my books.

In my opinion, that cannot be indifference. If something is not important to us, then we cannot be indifferent to it. Rather, when something is not important to us, it does not matter what we are to it. We can pay heed to what it is; we can choose to ignore it, neither matter, for once we place it in the realm of unimportant, even the emotion that it triggers is unimportant.

Therefore, I understand that we can be indifferent only to the things that are important to us. The next question is, “Are we indifferent to things that we do not know of?” That too, I believe does not constitute indifference, it is obliviousness. When we are not in the know of something, to say we are unaware of neither its existence nor its non-existence, we are oblivious to it; therefore not indifferent to it.

Therefore, we can be indifferent to things that we know exist and are important to us. This seems to be a self-contradictory statement. How can one consider important and yet be indifferent to it?

The answer, according to me, lies in what indifference means. If it means that we do not pay heed to what happens to it, then we are not indifferent. It should ideally mean that we consider it important; however, it does not have the capacity to run our emotions. The indifference is not to the presence or absence of an entity, it is to the effect that it has on us.

The above statement means that even though something is not present, we can still be not indifferent to it, for it plays an important role in our psychological well-being. I do accept that there is a very thin line between what constitutes indifference what constitutes the opposite. I do accept that with an overview, indifference means no important. However, I can see a subtle difference that lies in the area of importance.

Indifference is in my head,
As is everything else.
I can need you,
Yet be indifferent,
I can have no use for you,
Yet hold you in high esteem.
It is not importance you see,
For indifference lies in my head.

The final farewell

She had held on enough,
Treasuring memories,
Recalling them every time.
He’d moved on,
Leaving her behind,
Removing traces
She’s left.
This was her turn,
Her salve.
Remove picture
Tear letters
Throw mementos.
Everything that reminded
Her of him.
Long enough
Building sand castles
That broke with each wave.
Long enough,
Hoping against hope,
For events that'd never happen
Long enough
She’d said
For things must end.
She changed locks,
She changed keys
She even changed the door,
For it reminded of him.
Long enough
She’d waited
To accept what she knew
Things had moved on
It was her turn now.

My unknown woman

Oh unknown woman,
I pray to you,
Do not get up and leave.
I know not who you are
Or of whence you came.
Let us fool each other a little longer,
Let us fool we know each other,
That we are friends,
That you are my lover.
The stops are rushing by,
Each more frightening than the last.
With each approaching stop,
I pray this is not the one,
The stop where you get off.
As the bus pulls out of the stop,
I am scared to turn,
Lest you catch me
Looking at you.
I sit there looking ahead,
Looking at nothing in particular
Trying to hear every sound,
That comes out of you.
From the moment you sat beside,
I have not looked at your face.
All I see are your hands
As you finger your book
One that you are not reading.
Fingers, so slender,
With nails so pretty
A touch so ginger, the lightness I feel,
When your skins brushes mine.
I think of things I can say,
A joke, a comment, a wisecrack.
But nothing comes to my mind
All I can offer is my silence.
You accept my silence
And offer me more,
That which is the foundation of our love.
You are sitting there,
So close,
That I can smell your perfume,
The one I did not purchase
For our non-existent anniversary.
You look at the watch on your wrist,
A wrist so slim,
I am scared the watch will fall off.
As you seem to be in a hurry
To go somewhere
Without me.
The bus rolls on, oblivious to us,
Everyone seems oblivious
To what is not going on between us.
You start packing your things,
You are telling me,
Without actually saying a word,
That you are going to leave soon,
Leaving me here,
Ruing the silence
That hung between us.
Oh woman who was beside me
Whence you came from,
Where did you go?
My woman, who shared a seat
Who left, without sharing a life.

Horizon

She was vast,
Expanse-less, I thought.
She covered me from all sides,
As she held me up,
So I would not sink.
She seemed all powerful,
moving with an ease,
an ease that came from within
and one that seen on her skin.
Her skin was flawless,
Though with many a trough;
She let you feel each one
As you rode over
Making your way
To where you wanted to go.
Then you looked in the distance,
Until you saw she too was being held up.
By the even more expanse-less sky.
He gently reached down,
And kissed her with his blue lips
For she was not truly blue,
She was made blue,
By his kiss.
He gave her strength,
The blue was her strength,
The blue which hid her depths
From all those at the surface.
These lovers,
They stared at each other for million miles
They held each other at a thin line,
A line that no one but them could ever see.